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Musings

Writer

Updated: Sep 10, 2023

 All I said was "I think I'm meant to be a writer.' 


And the tears just started falling. 


I cried like a mother whose heart is breaking because her son told her he's going to go off and be an artist. 


Crying as all my fears and wishes have disappeared with a single thought. 


I'm terrible at writing so I'm not sure why I want to do it so badly. 


Maybe because it feels easy to let words tumble from my head down my arms and through my fingers and onto the page. 


I like it when ink gets smeared on the back of my hand and stays there for days like a battle scar. 


I want people to know what's inside of me. 


The mountains upon mountains of words. 


The ideas strung together from the bushes and trees and rocks all piled together. 


I can't keep my mouth shut. 


Even If I do the words still find a way out through all those little cracks. 


How could I possibly not? 

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